Watch Them Burn
by Mrs.JohnReese
Summary: Caring is not an advantage. Words Lily Hudson knew by heart. Words that signified everything she had survived; and everything she had yet to witness. For when Sherlock Holmes enters her life, she'll find that as much as she tries to fight it; nothing will ever be the same. After all, all hearts are broken... Eventual Sherlock/OC Please R&R :)
1. Put Me Back Together

"_All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage…_"

…

Caring is not an advantage.

Of all the things she had been told over the years…things that echoed, like silent mantras, in her head…this was the one thing that should have resonated. Stuck with her. Past experiences should have served only as further proof that she had no business getting attached to anyone. That to do so would only harm her in the end. But still, she had pressed onward, blind to consequence…to the fallout that was inevitable. She had fallen for a man who was not known for showing any glimmer of affection whatsoever. She had foolishly dared to dream that maybe, just _maybe_, the two of them had something special. That he might at least grow somewhat fond of her throughout their time together. That she might be able to prove to him that forming connections to others was not as much of a weakness as he asserted. For a time, she had hoped that the two of them had been making progress. Slow, steady, but sure.

And then, just like everything else in her life that she had come to love so fiercely, he was gone.

Had she been left to her own devices after that day, with nothing to worry about save for herself; she might have been able to cope. Being used to her world coming apart at the seams on a somewhat regular basis, the young woman might have had some success in picking up the pieces and moving on; but for one small ripple in the otherwise typical stream of events. But this time was different. In stark contrast to the times before, where her own family had repeatedly torn her to shreds; _this_ incident was not deliberate or planned out. The man she had come to love had not known…had no _way _of knowing the exact level of her predicament when he left her. _When the world took him from her_. He did not know, because she had failed to muster the courage to tell him. Though what he would have done with the knowledge was beyond her ability to predict.

_Sherlock Holmes did not care for anyone…why would he care for a child?_

A man of stunning intellectual power, he would certainly see the result of their trysts as nothing more than another tedious facet of the life he lived. Though he had, over time, softened towards her inasmuch as he was able; the young woman was not so foolish to believe that indicated love…after all, he had never given reason to believe that he felt such a tedious emotion towards her, or anyone else he associated with. No, forcing logic upon herself, the young woman chose to classify his interactions with her as necessary for the task at hand. One could not always remain lonely…adrift in the world with nothing there to anchor them save their own thoughts and suppositions. She guessed that, in some strange way, she had become a sort of anchor for the great detective, even though she knew with utter surety that he would never once admit it. And that realization had impacted her more than she ever could have dreamed. It was the reason she allowed him to test out his curiosity towards the petty amusements of less intelligent beings slightest chance of anything coming of their involvement.

She just needed to be…_needed._

She never told anyone of what they were doing. Not John…not Mrs. Hudson…not one of them knew until after he had…after he was gone. All along she had been afraid that one of them would discover what had transpired and seek to put a stop to it out of some desire to protect her. To save her from herself. But, truth be told, she had never _wanted _to be saved. Not then, when the rush of pure elation each and every time the great _Sherlock Holmes _threw a look her way outweighed logic and set her pulse to racing. She was his experiment. There was no better word to describe her than that. It was cold, distant…fact. But in spite of that, she knew that she would have protected what they had with continued silence until her dying day…

Until, it seemed, there was no longer a secret to keep; and her body wouldn't have permitted her to even if she tried.

Forcing herself back to the present just in time to note the sound of approaching footsteps; the young woman turned slightly, the faint smile of acknowledgement that toyed with the corners of her lips never quite reaching her eyes as the man who had lost every bit as much as she came to stand by her side. The peaceful silence of the cemetery was broken in that moment by his heavy sigh…a sure indication that the grief he refused to show was still tormenting him. He was a soldier, through and through; born and bred to be the rock for others. For people like _her_. And it was everything she could do in that moment to bite her lower lip and hold the tears at bay as she felt his hand reaching for hers; his voice soft…broken, as he spoke.

"We should go, Lily…"

The young woman nodded then; using the need to tuck a strand of light brown hair behind her ear as ample excuse to dash away an errant tear before turning to face her partner in sorrow, her fingers clinging to his in a desperate search for comfort and warmth. Anything to take away the pain that tore through her chest. She knew that if she stood any chance at getting over this unspeakable shock, she had to move on. They _all_ did. But somehow, she also knew that such a thing was never really in the cards for her. As someone who gave everything of themselves to others on almost every occasion; it could never have gone any differently. She belonged to Sherlock Holmes now; body, mind, and soul. She was _his_ even though he was dead.

But still, she had to try to get better. To move on. For herself…for her friends…for the tiny life that now resided inside of her.

_She had to try…_

…..

_Sentiment_. A feeling, up until now, that he had always found to be nothing but superfluous. Why get attached to others, when time and time again they would prove themselves capable of nothing less than causing you pain. Either pain, or great annoyance with their stupidity. Their intellectual _inferiority_. In all of his years, Sherlock Holmes had never once formed an attachment to anyone. Believing it best to be alone; rather than tied down to any one thing or person, he had persisted in keeping a cold, calculating distance between himself and those around him. And for a while, that technique had worked. It had kept him safe when nothing else could; shielding him from the petty advances of human nature while permitting him optimal leeway for going about his work. But now, the great detective found himself caught in a seemingly impossible predicament. He was _not_ dead; contrary to the tombstone that suggested otherwise. He was very much alive, sequestered behind a tree not far from where the two people that meant the world to him were standing; grieving for a man who was not, in fact, gone from them. And in spite of everything that he tried to tell himself to the contrary…

It pained him to watch his friends carry on, alone in their grief. It stunned him that they even _cared_ one way or the other, for him.

But most of all, the man could do nothing other than admit that he now knew _exactly _what Lily had meant when she spoke of how actions can harm people more than words. When he left, there had been no parting farewells. At least, none that deserved to be considered as such. The only person who had directly witnessed his act to save those he cared for was John…but, Sherlock was forced to admit, _he_ was not the one he most wanted to tell.

It was _her_. Lily Hudson, the small, skittish wisp of a girl that shouldn't have meant a thing to him at all. Somehow, through coming to live with John in Mrs. Hudson's small flat on Baker Street; she had wormed her way underneath his cold exterior to the person he had worked so hard to bury as he grew up. To the person he had all but forgotten about in his efforts to be the best at his job.

_The only one in the world_.

All of that had failed him now. All of his attempts at distancing himself from the world around him had fallen away when he spent more and more time with his landlady's niece. In spite of previous thoughts indicating that he had suffered more than any other child growing up; he had found himself all but perplexed at the atrocities such a timid young woman had endured before the age of seventeen…and it was perhaps that shock and curiosity that rendered him susceptible to her; causing him to desire her company more and more until…

Shaking himself back into the present, the detective squared his shoulders; fighting the nagging urge to reveal himself to the two mourners not ten feet away. He knew he must not show them. They could not know the truth. To reveal such a thing would place them in grave danger; and distract him from the task at hand.

And that…that was a fate worse than the eternal loneliness he already faced. No, Sherlock Holmes would walk away from them; ignoring the faint sensation of pain that was wrenching its way through his chest as the soldier and the silent griever turned and walked towards their waiting taxi, and away from him. They deserved this. A better life. A life without the constant danger that an acquaintance with him provided. And though he did not know of the true consequences of his dalliance with either of them…

He knew that this was the right decision. They were safe. Moriarty's network could not touch them so long as it was supposed he was dead.

That was all that mattered…

…

**Hi there! And welcome to a repost of my Sherlock BBC story! I know I just took this guy down due to lack of inspiration…but leave it to me to find that inspiration immediately after doing so. (sigh) Based on past comments, I think I'm going to try for going back in time after this first chapter, just to set up the 'relationship' between Sherlock and Lily, if you will. But if anyone has any ideas, or things they would like to see between the two please do not hesitate to let me know! I'd be glad to try incorporating your thoughts into the story!**

**That's about all that I have to say for now! I hope you enjoyed the read, and please PLEASE feel free to leave your thoughts in a review!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**MJR**


	2. Falling Apart

_(A few years earlier)_

….

She was in the hospital again. Bruises and scrapes littered her pale skin as marks of so much damage and neglect; the undersides of her arms near her elbows a pincushion, her eyes ringed with dark circles, cold and dead. And for all the world, Lily Hudson _wished_ to be dead, in that moment. Dumped in an alleyway by the men who had destroyed her time and time again, she had prayed; not for the kindly homeless man who found her and brought her here, but for invisibility. She knew she suffered internal injuries from the latest beating. She could feel cracked ribs inhibiting her ability to breathe; and she could taste the blood in her mouth as it dribbled back down her throat from her broken nose.

_She wanted to be left alone, for once in her life_.

Fate, it seemed, had other ideas. At the involvement of the man who found her; the young woman soon found herself whisked from the alleyway and into an ambulance, sirens wailing and causing her insides to squirm as she contemplated the all too likely reality of her situation. She would be saved. Brought back to health until she was fit enough to be cast out into the world that had brought _this _upon her. It was a never-ending cycle. Her parents, or the men who had done this to her would find her again. They always did.

And next time, her punishment would be worse.

While en route to the hospital, Lily had drifted in and out of consciousness; welcoming the enveloping darkness that sporadically surrounded her as a means of escape from the pain that dogged her. She was done, so _done_ with everything that she had been through. But like some twisted joke; she was forced back again and again.

_Her reality had a sense of humor_.

Now she was awake. Awake, and painfully aware of the string of doctors who swarmed in and out of her room; aware of the constant barrage of tests and finger pricks and endless questions. They wanted to know what had happened to her. Who had done this. Where she had come from.

And she was not about to tell. Not after the first time.

When she had gone to authorities before, she had been shot down. Where they had initially been open and welcoming; not judging her or her life, after _he _had gotten to them, all had changed. She had been made into a pariah; the girl who cried wolf when none was there. And she was not going through that again; even if they never found what was wrong with her.

Even if her resistance brought her more harm than good.

Wincing at the appearance of a brilliant orb of light in her field of vision, Lily squinted and shied away; painfully aware of the restraining hand that sought to hold her in place as a warm voice spoke from somewhere above her.

"Hold still, sweetheart" It said; a singular, gentle squeeze at her wrist causing Lily's stomach to churn as pain tore through her nerve endings from the gash just above the man's fingertips "It's alright. I won't hurt you."

Nodding in resignation, Lily pressed herself back into the thinly cushioned hospital bed; steeling herself as though the man before her were about to break all her bones without anesthesia. She knew, on some level, that she was overreacting. That he was a medical professional, not a sadist. But that did not stop her; everything she had survived up to this moment having taught her that no one had pure intentions.

Surely no one would attempt to _help_ her.

Almost as quickly as he had come, the man who had examined her was offering a sad smile before departing; leaving Lily once again in quiet peace. The thought of more scenarios like this one threatened to overwhelm and paralyze her, of course. For she knew that she would continue to be the object of appraisal and fascination; the staff's desire to elucidate all that was not apparent putting her in prime position for observation and supposition. But in spite of all that, the young woman forced herself to focus on her present solitude; eyes closing as she tried to keep her nightmares at bay.

They would come for her eventually, of course. They always did.

…

Excitement, and dread. Perhaps more of it than had assailed her at the news of her ex-husband's execution as the flighty, yet kind-hearted landlady of 221b Baker Street hurried upstairs to inform the new tenants that she had to leave forthwith. True to form, she found Sherlock scurrying about in an attempt to tidy the mess he'd made as his new flat-mate, Dr. John H. Watson looked on in amusement and intrigue; and she barely spared the two men time enough to acknowledge her statement of imminent departure, before she was rushing back towards the stairs.

"Wait a minute, Mrs. Hudson" The one called John beckoned as he limped out to the landing behind her; leaving his eccentric companion to stew about the state of the flat "Did you say you were headed to hospital?"

"Yes, of course" The landlady replied; pausing only a moment to proffer a smile for the kind man she had just met so that he might not mistake her reply as too harsh. After all, he did seem to be the nice sort…

"Are you ill?"

"Oh heavens no, dear, I just have to look after a charge I haven't seen in quite some time."

"Well would you like me to come with you?" John inquired; leaning on the hand rail for support as he shifted slightly on his feet "I _am _a doctor."

"No, I'll be quite alright, thank you. Really, dear, I must be off-"

Without another word, Mrs. Hudson had hurried to descend the stairs; breathless with that same excitement and trepidation that had initially assaulted her as she hailed a cab, and left a very stunned John Watson in her wake.

_They had found her. Lily was alive._

…

Coming out of the fog of sleep slowly, Lily stretched aching muscles, bit by bit; determined to work beyond the dull ache in her body as she slowly shifted in bed. It had been at least a few days since her arrival; and no word from her parents or the men who had done this to her. Such a thing had given her some semblance of strength; even though in her heart, she knew it was impossible that she could persist without her past infringing upon her life for long. Yet again she had fallen prey to hope.

_A dangerous height from which she would surely fall_.

Rearranging her body into its former position lying flat on the bed; Lily made to slip her hand over to the left so that she might reach the television remote, seeking some form of distraction from that faulty emotion that insisted upon plaguing her now. She did not dare trust that she was truly free…to do so would be to set herself up for further failure; a fate she did not know she would survive yet again. She did not dare to believe in such things, even when she saw the familiar figure approaching her as though she was being pursued by some unseen menace.

_It couldn't be real, what she saw. It just couldn't be_.

As the woman paused at the outside of Lily's door, an unmistakable sheen to her eyes; the silence that persisted between them not one of anger or distance, but of unspeakable relief and simultaneous heartache. Lily had not seen the woman before her in at least five years, if not more. But that fact notwithstanding, she permitted her to sit on the edge of her bed without a word; leaning up to meet a warm embrace in spite of the pain in her protesting muscles. Anyone passing by would have marveled at the ease with which the young woman allowed her older counterpart to hold her; when she had refused all contact with any others before. But Lily was not concerned with what passersby would think, in that moment, when her carefully constructed façade of indifference broke and she was left bare, raw, and aching. She did not care that it was weak; that her parents would laugh if they could see her as broken as she was.

For the first time in a very long while, Lily simply released her shattered dreams and wishes and feelings. She curled into Mrs. Hudson's embrace even as the older woman permitted a low sob of her own to break free; and she finally, _finally _sobbed. Not in the arms of one who would shame her later; but in the arms of one who would _help_.

…

**Hello! And welcome to an update (finally)! I've been wondering and wondering how to go about this story; because I wanted to go back before the third season so that we might get a better idea of Lily's relationship with everyone (most especially Sherlock) and how everything developed from the beginning. That being said, I absolutely MUST thank Le Pleiade for the constant help and discussion of ideas that led to the posting of this chapter! I don't know that I'd ever have come up with them on my own!**

**Of course I recognize that this segment is rather short; but as it's my first return to this particular plot in a rather long stretch of time, I figured I'd start out slower, just to gauge everyone's reactions. Is there still interest in reading this? I certainly hope so, because now I think the ideas are coming back full force! But I do have to ask one small favor from you, my lovely readers. Might you be able to leave one wee comment, to say yay or nay to continuing this? I have my ideas, sure, but without your feedback, I'd likely end up working on a story that no one was reading (le sigh, le frown). **

**Many thanks to all of you for reading and giving me a shot (and for bearing with me when updates are less than frequent). I couldn't do it without you!**

**Until next time…**

**MJR**


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